Angel or Demon?
by JerichoRose
Summary: "We're Nobodies. We don't feel, we don't bleed, we don't even technically exist. But for the empty shells of who we once were, there is nothing tangible about us, but if you're still able to bleed, you still have a sliver of a connection to your heart."
1. Prelude

There are some things a little girl should not be exposed to. Unfortunately, when your only living relative is the one exposing you to said things, there's not a lot you can do. My first memory is the night my parents died in a house fire. I was about two and a half years old. My father's brother, Jason, took me in. From then on, my life was a never-ending hell. I was abused in almost every way possible. My uncle had a very sick mind and was a slave to his own desires, for which I suffered. I tried resisting, submitting, I even tried to kill myself on several occasions—no such luck. So I figuratively tore out my heart, just stopped caring—on the outside. Of course it still got to me, so I resorted to lines, symbols and words carved and burned into my flesh with a switchblade I stole from Jason and cigarettes that were otherwise completely useless, save for bringing the demon one step closer to lung cancer with every tar-filled puff.

One night, I listened as my legal guardian pulled into the driveway and crashed through the front door in a drunken stupor. I hid as best as I could in the shallow closet in my room, praying to God that he would just flop on the couch and pass out. Not a chance. I counted the heavy, stumbling footsteps he took toward my tiny bedroom. He slurred my name as he pushed open the door and gave my room a once over. I could see him through a little hole in the flimsy closet door as he stooped clumsily to check under my bed before straightening himself once more. I almost gasped when his head snapped around to glare at the closet door between him and me. No. Oh God no. Please don't find me. I just want one night free from this unbearable pain. I shut my eyes as the door swung open...

I lay on the floor, exhausted and bleeding, throat raw from screaming, eyes empty of emotion, while Jason snored away in his favorite arm chair, half-empty beer bottle clutched in his hand, just one room over. I wanted to cry, but I just couldn't. My body convulsed and heaved with dry sobs. Against the will of my sore muscles and my better judgment, I picked myself up and staggered to my closet. One thing I always kept in there was a noose I made with a thick electrical cord. I knew I only had to wait another year and I could legally be free of him, but I needed to do something _now._ I unraveled the noose and went to the chair where Jason slept. I tied the cable around him tightly, making sure he couldn't get up when he awoke. I took my switchblade in hand and became the vengeful, bloodthirsty beast I had hidden away for fifteen years. He screamed so loud when I started to cut into his cheek. Not like it mattered; we lived so far away from anything, we could hardly even say we were citizens of this little hick town. I drew the blade up from the corner of his lips, carving an ironic smile onto his face. Right ear: gone. Left eyeball: jelly. Tip of the nose: bye-bye. Belly: what's in here? Let's find out.

Eventually, I lost interest in tormenting my tormentor: he had lost so much blood, he didn't even have enough energy left to whimper. I found a bottle of cooking oil in the pantry and doused all the rooms in the house. I stood just outside the front door, match in hand, and took a deep breath before striking it and dropping it in the puddle of oil at my feet. I stood and watched the flames come to life in the house. Then I began to laugh. I was laughing so hard that I fell over. I couldn't breath, it was so fucking funny, but I didn't really know why. Tears began to pour from my eyes, and the hysterical laughter warped and became wrenching sobs. I cried until my body just couldn't function any longer, and I fell into darkness.


	2. Chapter One: Are You an Angel?

I came to gasping for air, confused and scared. I looked around blindly, images blurring past, familiar, like memories. They were my memories, playing in reverse. Starting with my body crumpled in a sobbing heap in front of a raging house fire. Back to torturing Jason, then Jason torturing me. Over and over again. I almost vomited at the sight of what he did to me for fifteen years. Then another fire, but I'm much younger: only two. I'm crying hysterically, choking on smoke. After that scene came blurry, jumbled flashes of me and my parents, happy, not a care in the world.

I couldn't comprehend what was going on. I started to shake, my breathing ragged. What is all of this? I felt a presence behind me. I whipped around, half-enraged and half-terrified, and found a tall, blonde boy standing there. He jumped, a yelp escaping his lips, at my sudden movement. "Who are you?" I demanded. The young man, not much older than me, scratched the back of his head nervously.

"I-I'm Demyx. I'm supposed to bring you back with me," he said, giving an awkward smile.

"Bring me back where? Why? What's going on?!" I was becoming more and more panicked.

Demyx's face clouded with sadness. "Your heart gave in. Well, not physically, but emotionally. All those things that happened to you..." He paused, his face twisting with sympathy. "Th-they drove the light out of your heart, and it left. All that's left of you is an empty shell." As he said this, he gestured to me.

"So, I'm dead?"

"In a sense, yes."

"Are you an angel?" He flushed at this, babbling frantically. I couldn't help but laugh as he floundered for words. I surprised myself, not having really laughed in too many years. He stopped and looked at me for a second before a grin spread across his face.

A deep, sinister laugh sounded from behind us, startling us. We turned to see a tall, silver-haired man stalking toward us. "We are far from angels, child. We shouldn't even exist," he said, pausing to gaze at the wall of images that were my memories. "My, my. Such anger and blood lust you had hidden under that pretty face. The face of an angel, but the soul of a demon." He chuckled at his observation. "Come." With that, he turned on his heel and walked toward a dark, swirling portal. I felt a hand on my back, and looked over my shoulder to see Demyx giving me a reassuring smile as he ushered me forward, and through the portal to God knows where.


	3. Chapter Two: Bleeding Angel

Before I could blink, I was in the center of a white room, surrounded by people in black cloaks. The man with silver hair stood in front of the others, all standing perfectly still. "Welcome to the World that Never Was," the man said, his voice echoing in the vast room as he held his arms open. "I am Xemnas. What is your name?"

"I-I'm Lea," I said timidly, aware of the fourteen pairs of eyes on me.

"Not anymore. You are no longer who you once were. From now on, you will be known as Xale, the fifteenth member of Organization XIII," he announced. "Now, show us your abilities."

"Abilities?" I parroted in confusion. "Wait, Organization what? What's going on?"

"Without a heart, your empty shell must have something to defend itself. Every nobody has an ability," Xemnas explained, ignoring my other question. "Your ability will determine your title. Just clear your mind and search the emptiness inside you, and you will find your power."

Still unsure, I exhaled deeply and closed my eyes. Behind my eyelids, I saw nothing but red—blood. Rivers of blood flowed through my mind, washing away everything in its path. "Are you ready?" Xemnas asked. I opened my eyes with a gasp.

"I-," I started. He raised his arm and summoned three little white creatures. "Wha-!?" One of the creatures lunged at me. It slashed my face, and I fell back with a yelp. I reached up and felt the blood running from the new wound on my cheek, barely aware of a chorus of gasps. Almost on instinct, I thrust my hand in its direction. The blood coating my fingers leaped forward in the form of needle-like spikes, impaling the white creature. It crumpled to the ground and disappeared. I picked up one of the solid spikes and willed it to change shape, morphing and re-solidifying into a large, serrated dagger. My vision wasn't normal anymore; everything was tinted red. My body now moved almost of its own accord, dashing toward the two remaining creatures with inhuman speed and defeating them without a hitch. My vision then returned to normal, and I collapsed to my knees. Gasping for air, I was vaguely aware of the presence in front of me and the warm liquid seeping from my eyes.

"But how?" asked a cold, quizzical voice. Chilly hands lifted my face into the light while their owner—a gaunt, green-eyed man with long, blonde hair and a fascinated expression—examined my face carefully. I reached my own hand up to my face and wiped under my eye. My hand came away covered in blood. "This can't be possible," said the blonde with manic eyes.

"It's just a little blood," I said, not thinking too much of it.

"'Just a little blood,'? There shouldn't be any!" he exclaimed.

"What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled.

A boy just a little taller than me walked up behind the blonde. He had slate hair covering half of his face, and an imperturbably straight face. "We're Nobodies. We don't feel, we don't bleed, we don't even technically exist," he explained. "But for the empty shells of who we once were, there is nothing tangible about us, but if you're still able to bleed, you still have a sliver of a connection to your heart."

"What does all of this mean, exactly?" I questioned.

"It means you will be of great use to us," answered Xemnas sinisterly. "Once again, welcome to the Organization, Number XV, the Bleeding Angel."


End file.
